


Into Seas Without a Shore

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Dead Like Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-22
Updated: 2006-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1641755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georgia gets to clean up one of Mason's messes, and unexpectedly reunites with two people she loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into Seas Without a Shore

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to L. and J. for sweet beta work.
> 
> Written for Cherry Ice

 

 

 

 

When my eldest daughter died, I stopped making lists. Where once I found them comforting, now I only found them daunting. All those lines, all that blank space.

I'd kept notebooks of lists for years. Each page was neatly dated so at any moment, I could look back and see when I'd done something--or when I hadn't.

I didn't want to look back anymore. The comfort was gone; I couldn't smile at what had been done. I could only envision lists of things that would never happen.

Georgia graduating from college. Georgia's wedding. Grandchildren. I wanted to knit baby blankets--even though I couldn't knit.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot I had a younger daughter. I forgot that I could still make lists for her.

#

Georgia walked into Der Waffle Haus on Monday to find Rube utterly alone. She didn't like it. Not even Kiffany was around. No cook, no customers, just Rube at their usual table, with his notebook.

She crossed the worn carpet, wondering if she was more upset that she wouldn't get a Jayne Mansfield for breakfast, or that Rube had felt the need to empty the entire joint to talk to her.

The vinyl booth squeaked beneath Georgia as she sat down. She sat on the edge of the bench, ready to flee if need be. The look in Rube's eyes was dark, brooding. But then it always was.

"Where is everyone?" Georgia asked.

"On assignment."

Georgia raised an eyebrow. "Kiffany's reaping now?"

Rube didn't say anything. She wanted him to call her Peanut, do anything other than just sit there. How long had it been since he'd used that awful nickname? Long enough for her to miss it.

"I don't want to reap my sister," Georgia said. After seeing Reggie in the cemetery, Georgia hadn't been able to get the idea out of her head. One of them had to continue living.

"I hope I never have to ask that of you," Rube said, and handed her a yellow Post-It.

#

Georgia walked into Der Waffle Haus on Tuesday to find Mason freaking out, which wasn't wholly unusual in and of itself. What was unusual was that he was sober.

"You really fucked up this time."

Mason stopped his pacing long enough to look at Roxy. "Shut the fuck up."

Roxy shrugged and went back to her eggs.

Georgia liked this scene even less than yesterday's. She looked at Rube, who looked-- He looked pale. He rubbed his temple, as if he might be able to rub away whatever Mason had done.

Mason took a seat in a chair across from the booth everyone else occupied. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, paying no attention to the other two people who occupied the table. Georgia lifted Mason out of the chair by his arm before the man could skewer Mason's ear with his fork. She shoved him into the booth and sat so he couldn't escape, Daisy on his other side.

Across from them, Roxy chewed her eggs and Rube stared, like he'd seen something worse than death. Death wasn't so bad, Georgia supposed; not once you got used to it. The problem was most people never had the time to get used to it.

"What's going on?"

"It's a intriguing situation, Georgia," Daisy said. She hadn't touched the breakfast before her.

Rube leveled a finger at Daisy. "Shut it." His eyes swung to Georgia. "We have a situation." Rube placed his hands flat on the table before him, index finger to index finger, thumb to thumb, making a triangle of empty space.

What they didn't appear to have was Rube's notebook. Rube always had his notebook. Georgia felt her stomach turn over.

"Mason, what the hell did you do?"

Mason scrubbed his hands through his hair. "It was a honest mistake and frankly, I don't-- I don't know. I don't understand it."

"Mason got high," Rube said. "Higher than I think he's ever been. And then he went to work. He thought he could still reap."

Georgia couldn't stand the anger in Rube's eyes and looked away. Snow was lightly falling outside. Georgia wanted to be out there, anywhere except this table where she was about to hear something worse than Mason being high during a reap.

"And?" Georgia asked. She didn't look at Rube; she looked at Mason.

"Answer the lady," Roxy said.

Mason dropped his hands to the tabletop, closing them into fists. "I don't know how it happened," he said, "and I'm sorry. I'm so bloody sorry. It's-- It should have been a simple reap. One guy, coitus interruptus."

Georgia bowed her head and registered the fact that her nail polish was chipped beyond salvation. "Why wasn't it simple?"

"I reaped the woman, too."

"It doesn't seem like you should be able to reap the wrong person," Daisy said. "I mean, imagine how many people we touch over the course of a day. The idea that we could reap any of them...without meaning to..."

Georgia looked at up Rube. "Can you reap the wrong person?"

"It happened once before," he said. "In 1300-something. I've only read the account, wasn't there, but this instance is similar. Both couples were as close as two people can get--making love."

"They came and went together," Daisy said with a giggle. "Ow! Roxy!" Daisy leaned down to rub her shin.

Georgia shook her head. "There's something else, here," she said. She looked at Mason again. "You said you were sorry...but you said it to me."

"Tell her the rest," Rube said.

Mason's face creased with a frown. "The bloke was with your mother, George."

Georgia blinked. "My mother was having sex? My mother?" And then the rest of it sank in, abruptly. Her eyes met Mason's, blank and wet. "You reaped my mother."

#

Georgia wasn't sure which was worse--the idea of her mother having sex, or that she'd been accidentally reaped during it.

Had it been her grandmother--and Georgia really didn't want to think about her grandmother having sex--she would have loved the experience of being reaped and discovering there was--what?--something after this life. Something Georgia had only glimpsed from a distance.

"Your sister is fine," Rube said. "Your grandmother is with her."

"And what exactly do they think happened to my mother?" Georgia asked. Her eyes widened. "Did Reggie find them...?"

"No." Rube was quick to answer. "This is an unusual situation, Georgia--"

"Is that why everyone was gone yesterday?" Georgia looked at Daisy and Roxy with suspicion.

"You know we live to clean up Mason's mess," Daisy said.

"Messes," Roxy said under her breath.

"I have apologized," Mason said. "I've surrendered my bloody stash and promised to leave it behind. What more would you have me do?"

Daisy smiled her sweetest smile. "Travel back in time and undo it."

Mason's eyes swung to Rube. "Can I do that? Because I would."

"Don't be more of an ass than you already are," Roxy said. She set her fork down and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "Georgia, as far as your sister and grandmother know, your mother is out of town--"

"--with her hunky Jamaican lover," Daisy added.

"Could you please stop that." Georgia bowed her head and rubbed her temples, wishing she could start this day over. But her mind kept working; beyond the confusion and anger, ideas ticked into place. "If no one knows they're dead, can this be fixed?" When Georgia looked up, it was Rube she looked to.

"Your mother wasn't supposed to be reaped," he said. "Since you have a flesh and blood tie to her, you can bring her back--"

"You're kidding," Mason said. "All this time, there's a fix and you let me believe otherwise." He tried to stand up in the booth, but couldn't get out from between Daisy and Georgia. He abruptly sat back down. "You sodding--"

"That being said," Rube continued, "there's a sacrifice to be made. The longer your mother stays in the beyond, the more of her soul will shred away. The beyond will grow accustomed to her being there. It won't want to give her up. It will want something in return."

Georgia didn't like the sound of that.

"What's the sacrifice?" she asked.

Rube shook his head. "You'll know when you're in there and not before." From under the table, Rube withdrew a slim leather-bound book and slid it across the table to Georgia. "This is the account of the prior case. It might help you."

"It being written in sodding old tyme English--tyme with a Y girly girl--will probably not," Mason said and got Daisy's elbow in his ribs.

Georgia took the book, the leather buttery soft under her fingers. "How much time do I have?" Georgia thought these kinds of quests always had time limits, didn't they?

But Rube shook his head. "The sooner the better, before the beyond gets used to her being there."

"I'll do it today." But where? And how? Georgia thought of Betty, of how she'd jumped in after a reap. Georgia's eyes met Rube's and he handed her a Post-It.

"Later tonight," he said. "You can only bring your mother out, Peanut. No matter how you may be tempted by anyone else."

Georgia nodded and looked down at her Post-It. By eight o'clock, she'd be headed into the beyond. Whatever that meant.

#

Georgia's reap reclined on a padded lounger in a green cucumber masque, drinking Diet Coke, eating frozen M&Ms, getting a pedicure. It wouldn't have been all that unusual, except for the fact that it was a man.

Georgia shuffled across the room in slippers, settling into the lounger beside him. He grinned at her and tossed another handful of chocolate into his mouth.

"You chicks have it great," he said as the technician rubbed more warm oil into his feet.

Georgia accepted the icy soda offered to her and managed a smile for Mr. A. Sharpe. He'd be dead in a few minutes; she figured she could humor his rude ass at least that long.

"We sure do. Monthly bleeding, painful childbirth, being judged by the world for how we look, making less money than a man for the same job, good times."

She reclined on the lounger and didn't kick off her slippers. She didn't really want a pedicure--not before she tromped through who-knew-where. After that, then she'd consider beauty.

She didn't want to think about coming face to face with her mother. Would her mother know her in the beyond? Or would Joy Lass look at the stranger Georgia had become and see no one she loved? It wasn't supposed to be that way in Heaven--but then Georgia didn't think she was going to Heaven.

"I'm not saying you don't deserve some perks along the way," Sharpe said. "Just that we dudes should share in them."

Georgia bit her tongue. She exhaled, wishing she could actually relax, but it wasn't working. She watched A. Sharpe enjoy his spa treatment and didn't complain when a slim Vietnamese girl brought her a bowl of M&Ms.

"You girl be here soon," the girl said.

"Oh, that's all right." Georgia smiled as the girl walked away. Sharpe's girl left the room as well with a quick "all right, you feet nice."

"I just don't think she finished," he said and sat up, swinging his feet to the floor.

Georgia pointed at the floor. "You might not want to--"

Sharpe waved her off and strode across the room--as much as he could stride with oiled feet over a tiled floor.

He slipped and slid over the tile, knocking into trays, scattering instruments. His arms pinwheeled, but he couldn't grab anything that might stop him; everything was already scattered on the floor.

When A. Sharpe went down, he went down hard. He hit the stainless steel fronted fridge and left a cucumber smear as he slid down. Atop the fridge sat tubs of body wax, and atop these tubs perched a graveling, watching Sharpe with interest. The graveling took advantage of the impact and sent the tubs of wax solidly onto Sharpe's head.

Georgia couldn't help but cringe. She stood up and took her robe off, to reveal jeans and a tee-shirt. She grabbed her shoes from across the room.

"Damn," Sharpe whispered at her side. "Killed by crotch wax."

Georgia watched the young Vietnamese girls flutter around Sharpe's dead body. "Looks like you could have used some on your back," Georgia said. She pulled her shoes on and gestured to the gleaming light behind them. "Come on."

The light formed itself into a voluptuous female body, her legs spread wide. Sharpe chuckled as he walked between her legs.

"You've got to be kidding me," Georgia muttered, but she leapt in after him before the portal could close. Cold air rushed over her, plastering her hair to her scalp. Somewhere behind her, she heard a graveling chuckle.

#

I woke without Angelo beside me. Typical, I thought. He could wine and dine and charm me with that damn accent of his, but could he commit to even one night together? I really knew how to pick them.

I sat up only to find myself not in my own bed, but in the remains of a broken hammock. A short distance away, beyond the tall palms that had once held the hammock, was the seashore. And Angelo, sitting in the waves, his beautiful brown back toward me.

"Angelo?"

He turned and came back to me; he was still entirely naked, his lower half dripping with salt water from his soak. I did know how to pick them.

"Where are we?" Only when Angelo touched my shoulder did I realize that I was also naked. Oddly, I didn't feel at all strange about it.

"I don't know," he said. He gestured around us, to the trees and the beach. "It looks like my childhood home, but we are alone. There are no cars, no birds. There is only the ocean. It is my fondest memory of home."

I shivered, even though the air wasn't cold. Didn't we only get to really go home when we were dead? The sex had been amazing, but had it killed us?

"Joy, do you remember--there was a light in your room. Blue and shimmering."

I shook my head. The room had been dark. I didn't want Angelo to see a body which had borne two children. But here, even though it seemed to be twilight, I didn't feel the same shame.

"There was a hand on my shoulder..."

"My hands were actually a little lower," I said.

Angelo chuckled, a beautiful deep sound. His hand touched his chest. "There was a moment's pain--I thought I was too young..."

"Are you saying--"

"I think I died," Angelo said.

"And how nice, you brought me with you." I stood from the hammock. "That makes no sense." I strode out to the waterline, let it lap at my feet. The water was clear and foamy; warm, almost like a bathtub.

"What's your explanation?" Angelo asked. He came to stand behind me, hands sliding over my shoulders. One hand came over and pressed against my hammering heartbeat.

I stared out at the gleaming water and endless tide, and had no explanation.

#

It was water that now plastered Georgia's hair to her scalp. She struggled through the wetness, and tasted salt at the back of her throat. She pushed her way upward, until at last she stood in a shoreless sea, gray and still.

"Georgia! Georgia Lass!"

Georgia blinked her eyes, trying to get used to her new surroundings. For a minute, she couldn't breathe, but she could hear and figures slowly began to emerge around her. They were distant and when Georgia tried to touch one, it shredded into vapor. She reached for another, and it evaporated.

One of them called her name.

"Georgia!"

She was swept into a fierce embrace, and smelled (ah! she could breathe!) a familiar scent, one that was half soaked moss, half drowned flowers. She could hold this body--it did not vanish beneath her fingers. Georgia squeezed tight.

"Betty?"

Betty twirled her around, until the only-just-forming environment blurred again. When Georgia's feet touched the sea, she pulled back and looked at her fellow reaper. Former reaper. Lost soul. Friend.

"Betty!"

Betty looked older, her hair having lost a good deal of its curl and shine, her face drawn in fine lines and deeper wrinkles. Betty wasn't wet, despite the fact that they stood in a gray sea.

"Oh, Georgia, it's been a long time. What are you doing here?"

As happy as Georgia was to be with Betty again, she couldn't overcome her anger at Mason and her worry about her mother. She shook her head.

"Mason fucked up."

"Some things never change." Betty linked her arm through Georgia's and slowly turned her around. "This is the red light and we should go elsewhere."

The red light seemed pretty self explanatory when Georgia was finally able to see it in detail. The sea around them had vanished. Small buildings now huddled along a track of rutted road, vaguely illuminated along their roofs with the same blue-white light Georgia recognized from her reaps. Red lights glowed inside a few of the windows beside the doors. Behind the buildings, a river twined, and when the wind picked up Georgia could smell its rot.

"What were you doing here?" Georgia asked.

"Just wandering."

Georgia had the impression that Betty wandered a lot.

"Find anything good?"

Rather than answer, Betty smiled again, but this one looked forced. "So what did Mason do?"

Georgia, worried over bits of her mother flying off into the beyond, decided that answering Betty was the quickest way to get on with her mission.

"He reaped my mother." Georgia explained what she knew, told Betty about the unknown sacrifice she would have to make, and ended by shrugging. "You know this place better than I do. Where would I find someone who was wrongly reaped?"

Betty laughed. "It's not like we have rooms full of certain people. It's not like that here. It's...stranger than that." Betty thought for a moment. "I have no idea, Georgia, but would be happy to help you look."

#

Angelo and I hadn't found a way off the beach. We came back to the hammock and trees, and I found myself making lists in my head.

List one, where the hell are we?

1\. Heaven  
2\. Hell  
3\. Somewhere else  
4\. New Jersey

None of these appealed to me--I didn't want to be dead. I didn't want Angelo to be dead. Granted, if we were, we'd gone out in a good way, but--

"Oh, God."

"Joy?"

"If we're dead, someone's going to find our bodies. Some-- It might be Reggie." I choked on a sob. I buried my face in my hands and made another list.

List two, things I would rather have happen than the above scenario:

1\. Chinese water torture  
2\. fall mouth-open into a septic tank  
3\. admit my mother might've been right about life after death

"Joy, don't think of that." Angelo's strong hands massaged my shoulders. "If we are dead, and Reggie still lives, we can both only go on from here. Reggie is a strong girl--"

"She's not," I said. "She's-- My baby."

But thinking that way sent my thoughts straight to Georgia. Georgia was dead, so if Angelo and I were now also dead, did that mean Georgia was somewhere here? I came to my feet and ran to the edge of the beach.

"Georgia!" I cried into the wind. "Georgia!"

#

The book Rube had given Georgia was useless. As Mason thought, she couldn't read any of it. Georgia tucked it into her back pocket and wondered how the hell she'd figure this out on her own.

She and Betty had walked for what felt like hours. Georgia's feet were tired and that didn't seem right to her. She was dead; her feet shouldn't hurt.

"What have you been doing all this time?" Georgia asked. "What happened after you jumped in?"

She and Betty crossed a bridge that arched over a still pool of water. A gentle breeze came up, carrying with it the scent of water lilies. Georgia couldn't help but notice that fragments of Betty lifted into the air with each breath of wind.

"Looking," Betty said.

She didn't continue and Georgia was about to ask "for what?" but then Betty laughed.

"For anything, for everything. It's not life, Georgia--not like we knew it. I don't know how to explain it."

Instead, Betty showed her. Betty touched Georgia's arm and images flooded through her. Georgia saw Betty wreathed in blue-white light, and tasted water in the back of her throat.

Every night, Betty lay down in a river to sleep and drifted where the water would take her. Every morning, Betty woke in a new place and had to walk until she found her way back to her resting place. Every morning, the river was different, changed. Each day, Betty emerged from the water smaller and more forgetful than the day before.

It didn't sound remotely like heaven to Georgia. She held Betty's hand, squeezed it, and didn't know she was crying until Betty wiped her cheeks dry.

"Oh, it's not bad, sweetie," Betty said. "It doesn't hurt. I'm glad to remember you, though."

They came over the bridge and Georgia tasted salt in the air. The pool of water had become an ocean beneath the bridge; ahead of them in the distance, a pale beach stretched as far as Georgia could see. The sky was so blue, it made Georgia's eyes water.

"Thank Mason for me," Betty said and hugged Georgia against her. "If he hadn't screwed up, I wouldn't have seen you."

#

List three, reasons why this is paradise:

1\. Angelo  
2\. Potentially uninterrupted sex  
3\. Clean air

List four, reasons why this isn't paradise:

1\. Sand in bad places  
2\. My girls aren't here  
3\. I'll never see Paris

I rinsed the sand off my body, paying close attention to those places sand should never be. When I came up the beach, I saw that Angelo had found some kaftans for us.

"My house is just over that way," he said and pointed through the palms. "Everything looks so small."

He draped the kaftan over me and the simple, thin cotton felt wonderful. Even though the sun hadn't been shining, I somehow felt sunburned. Maybe sand-burned was more accurate.

"Are there beds?" I asked.

Angelo smiled at me. "And pillows."

Maybe it was paradise, but still, I couldn't bend my mind around it. Was I destined to stay here? What would happen to my Reggie? Raised by my mother... I didn't even want to think about it.

"There is much out of our control," Angelo said as if he could read my mind. "We can only go forward from here."

"But we can't," I said. "There's no bridge that we've found. There's no one to talk to. It's like a bad version of Survivor. No rewards, no nothing."

Angelo's eyes brightened. "There is a bridge--it runs to the mainland. If we walk east, we should find it."

I frowned at him.

"I did not remember the bridge when we started west, my Joy. My mind is...slipping."

I had rarely seen Angelo frown, but he did so now. He rubbed his temple and slivers of his skin slipped away into the air.

"What is happening to me?" he asked.

I didn't know. I looked down at my arms; scrubbed my fingers over my forearm. Like Angelo, bits of my skin came away under my touch.

"This is Purgatory," I said. "We're really dead and we're slowly moving on to...wherever." I didn't like that at all. "I'm going. I'm going to the bridge." I didn't have shoes, didn't have anything to take with me. Nothing but Angelo. I extended my hand to him and he carefully took it.

#

"How much time has passed?" Betty asked. "Since I left."

Georgia had to think about it; time rolled by so quickly and she often didn't pay attention.

"About a year," she said. "There's a new reaper--Daisy, Daisy Adair." While Georgia liked Daisy--usually--she realized how much she had missed Betty. Realized how much she had missed having a sister figure in her life. Georgia clutched Daisy's hand. "Have you ever thought about coming back?"

Betty laughed. "All the time. Does Rube need another reaper?"

Did he? Georgia didn't know. "I'm sure he would take you back, in a heartbeat."

But that was a problem, because none of them had heartbeats. Georgia knew then that Betty could never come back. Rube said that this place was not for them to know.

For Betty, the portal into the beyond went one way. She'd gone where she wasn't supposed to and no one could come and bring her out, as Georgia meant to bring her mother. Even if Betty's nightly swim in the river didn't hurt, it was punishment for daring to venture where she wasn't meant to.

As much as Joy didn't belong here, neither did Betty, and Georgia understood what she had to do.

#

Halfway across the bridge that stretched over the opal water, I saw my daughter. I would have known Georgia Lass anywhere--but doubted my own mind as we came closer. The air between us wavered and I saw another girl, a different girl. My daughter wore this girl's skin. As I watched, she shook that skin off and ran for me.

I caught her and squeezed the breath from her, smelling the familiar curve of her neck, feeling her slight body against mine. But I didn't feel the hammer of her heart within her chest. While she smiled at me, there was something missing from her eyes.

"Georgia...oh, Georgia."

"You shouldn't be here," she said.

I shook my head. "Where is this? Are we-- Dead?"

She looked beyond me and I followed her gaze to Angelo, who walked toward us on bare feet.

"He died," Georgia said. "You didn't."

"But I'm here--and you're here!" I clutched Georgia, refusing to think about leaving this place. I couldn't, not when I'd found her again.

"You're not supposed to be here," Georgia said to me, and then looked at the aging beauty beside her. "And neither are you."

Georgia touched the woman, appearing to pull something from her thin body. It looked like a fraying scarf and as it came away, her body began to fragment. And yet, the woman smiled.

"Thank you, Georgia. Tell Rube I'm okay. Oh, thank you..."

Her body came apart, shattering onto the bridge. The bits and pieces of whomever she had been lifted into the wind and moved off, away from the water with what sounded like a sigh.

"What did you--" I blinked and my vision cleared, and I saw not my daughter before me, but someone else. Something else. "What are you?"

"Please don't be afraid," she said and reached for me.

I turned to run, and ran smack into Angelo, who held me, gentle as he ever had been.

"Joy, my joy. You don't belong here."

I couldn't imagine going anywhere else, though; everything beyond this place had begun to grow foggy in my mind and even now, everywhere Angelo touched me began to shred.

"You don't belong to the beyond," Georgia said.

She grabbed me by the arms from behind and pulled. Hard. I felt as though I'd been wrenched out of cement, and went crying, screaming, reaching for Angelo, reaching for my daughter, coming up empty handed.

It all faded.

"Joy, my joy..."

Angelo's body thrust against mine and then went terribly still. The room around us seemed to grow cold. He stiffened and rolled over, fell into the pillows and I shrieked his name, over and over until my voice left me.

It was quiet after that; quiet even when the police came and asked questions. The neighbors were curious--maybe that was the worst, everyone staring. I tried to make a list about the worst of the worst, but couldn't. There were too many things that might top that particular list.

But two weeks later, long after Angelo had been lain to rest, I bought a new notebook. In the days that followed, I began once again to make lists for Reggie. And, for myself.

#

Georgia fell to her knees, sobbing, back into the world that was not the beyond. Through her tears, she saw winter-thin trees against a cloudy, twilight sky, and the merest flicker of blue-white light fading.

She gasped for breath--was she breathing? Could she breathe? Georgia wanted only to hold her mother, to tell her--

"What?" she asked herself through the tears. "What...?"

She curled her hands into fists and beat them against her thighs. Her breath curled out in vapor before her. Snowflakes melted on her cheeks.

What was there to say?

_Please don't go. Please don't be scared. I'm sorry about Angelo, so sorry. Take care of Reggie--she needs you. I'm still here and I-- I love you, I do..._

So many things, Georgia thought with a strangled laugh, that she should make a list.

The End

 


End file.
